Her first and only thought was…she would love to have him in her bed like that.
He cursed and muttered, “Forget—”
“Yes.” She held out her hand. “Yes, you can.”
***
As Sean settled into Lizzie’s bed, he let out a deep sigh. Man, this was good. The sheets smelled like her and so did the pillow his head was on. From over on the left, the rain softly hitting the window made him think of cats padding over hardwood floors. Lightning still flashed and thunder still rolled, but the storm was winding down.
This was better than good.
Lizzie came in with two glasses of water. She put one on the bedside table next to him and took the other around to her side. She was awkward and lovely as she dropped the throw blanket and scooted under the covers with him. Then the lights went off and they were together in the dark.
He turned toward her, feeling needy and hating himself. “Can I hold you?”
She rolled right into him and he fit her warmth to his body, tucking her head under his chin, intertwining his legs with hers.
“What sort of nightmare was it?” she asked.
“The old kind.” Yeah, the really old kind. The one where his father came into his room after he’d finished off with Mac. Mac had always been able to take a lot, but sometimes he broke and then it was Sean’s turn, if their father was still angry. As the third in line, Billy had almost never been worked over. He’d just had to listen to the sounds and wonder if he was going to be next.
Which had been a head screw nonetheless.
Man, the not knowing had been the worst. You never knew whether it was going to be this night or another…. Whether the monster was going to come after you because your brother couldn’t handle it…If it was going to hurt less or more than before—
“Are you cold?” Lizzie asked, inching even closer to him. “You’re shivering.”
Sean squeezed his eyes shut and wondered what all those people on Wall Street would think if they could see him now, curled up for comfort against a woman he barely knew because she was all he had to turn to.
He kissed Lizzie’s hair then rubbed his face against it, dragging himself back from where he’d been.
Unfortunately, what he tuned into was her body.
Upstairs, his response to her had been all about pent-up fear and anger, an unleashing. But now in this quiet room, with the storm outside receding and the soft dripping of rain all that was left of the weather’s fury, he found himself wanting to make love to her, not just have sex with her.
His body began to hurt with need denied and now renewed.
Except he knew it was wrong. Over the next couple of weeks, he was going to pack up the apartment upstairs, sell the house and never look back. Meanwhile, she was a woman who wasn’t into short-term lovers—her history said it all.
“Sean?” she whispered into his neck.
The brush of her breath against his skin made him jerk. And his reply was nothing more than a growl.
Her palm slid over his waist and down to his hips and…He hissed sharply as she found the ache behind the boxers he’d thrown on.
Unconsciously, his hips moved, pressing his flesh into her grip. But then he reached down and brought her hand to his lips. Looking into her eyes, falling into them, he wanted her in ways he couldn’t name. Refused to name.
God…maybe he was protecting himself, as well, by not being with her.
“Lizzie—”
“At least let me…take care of you. Your body isn’t going to let you sleep.”
He went still, lungs ceasing to draw. Oh, man, he wanted her to make him finish and not just because she was right about the not sleeping. He wanted her to be in charge of him.
Slowly, he put her hand back where it had been.
Lizzie urged him over onto his back, and as he complied, she pulled the sheets free of his body. Going up on her knees, blond hair falling forward, shirt hanging loose, she reached down and dragged his boxers off his legs. His arousal landed flat on his belly, swollen and straining.
She came up to his mouth and kissed him with the sweet, hesitant style of a woman more passionate than experienced.
And it was just about the most erotic thing he’d ever had done to him. Many women had touched his body over the years; ever since he was sixteen and had embarked on his sexual life, he’d had no shortage of lovers. And yet he couldn’t remember feeling so delighted by one. Or so turned-on.
“How do you like to be…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
He put his hands up to her face, feeling the burn in her cheeks. “Do what you like to me. I’ll love it, whatever it is.”
Sean gasped as she took him in hand then moved down his body. With a rush of breath, he let his head fall back onto the pillow and balled the sheets in his fists. He gave himself to her with no barriers, nothing contrived, no calculated sensual tricks.
In return, she gave him…everything.
At the last moment, just before he went over the edge, he pulled her up to his mouth. As he spilled himself into her hands, he kissed the lips that had pleasured him.
For some completely ridiculous reason, he found himself wanting to weep.
***
When morning came, Lizzie woke up in a furnace.
Okay, not a furnace. She was under a thin sheet and on her bed…. She just felt as if she were in an industrial boiler.
But she was very okay with the heat.
Sean had chased her over to the far edge of the mattress, snuggling up so close he might as well have been under her own skin. His chest was against her back, his head tucked into her nape, his legs twisted around hers.
She chuckled, thinking she now knew what pretzels felt like.
“I’m crowding you, aren’t I?” he said in a lazy, gravelly voice.
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Good.” His hand smoothed down her arm, found her palm and gave it a squeeze. Then he somehow managed to get even closer.
Which gave her a clear impression that however sleepy he was, there was one part of him that was wide-awake. With a soft growl, he rubbed that part in a slow circle against her bottom. When she gasped and arched into him, he made a purring sound.
“You’re hell on my good intentions there, Lizzie.” His voice vibrated in his chest as he nuzzled the back of her neck. “Pure hell.”
“Am I?” She deliberately moved with him and smiled at the rumbling curse she got in response.
“You know you are.” His lips traveled to her shoulder and he sank his teeth into her, tugging a little then sucking the spot through her T-shirt. “You treated me fine in this bed last night.”
God, she loved that South Boston accent of his, that rough tone, that need. “Just returning the favor,” she murmured.
“So I guess it’s my turn again, Lizzie.” His hand slipped under her shirt and found her breast. “I’m wicked tired, though. Guess I’ll have to go real slow.”
He shifted down her body, tunneling under the sheets, rolling her onto her stomach. His mouth found her spine and followed it all the way to her—
The phone rang with an ear-splitting peal.
Sean paused, but didn’t stop.
Unfortunately, neither did the phone. And what if it was her mother having burned the house down or given the car away or done any one of a thousand things that spelled disaster?
As Lizzie stretched up to the bedside table and popped the phone off the cradle, Sean’s response was to start in on the backs of her thighs.
Man, if this was a telemarketer, she was going rip his or her head off. “Hello?”
“Lizzie, it’s perfect!”
“Mom?” Thankfully, Sean eased up and she caught her breath. “Mom…now’s not a good t—”
“The kiln is working beautifully!”
“It’s working…what?” Lizzie looked at the alarm clock with panic. Eleven. Eleven o’clock…oh God, she and Sean had overslept and the kiln had been delivered and her mother was now using the thing so the chances of getting the art store to take it back were next to nil. “Mom—”